


Nightmares

by Cindereliot



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Courfeyrac (Les Misérables) is a Good Friend, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Nightmares, Requited Love, Use Your Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cindereliot/pseuds/Cindereliot
Summary: Combeferre has had regular nightmares since he was a child. He has always been able to talk himself down with logic. When the nightmares start featuring Courfeyrac, he finds he needs a little more than just logic to calm down. Luckily, Courf is happy to oblige.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Just some self indulgent Courferre trash to get me through the week xx

Combeferre’s eyes snapped open and he took a deep, calming breath. He’d had another nightmare. Nightmares weren’t new to him. He’d been having them regularly since he was a little kid. It didn’t take long for him to calm himself down. He was rational. He was logical. He could easily pick out the impossible parts of the dream and separate them from reality. Once he had done that, his breathing would return to normal and he’d be able to fall back asleep.

That night was different. That night Combeferre had dreamed of Courfeyrac.

_The two of them were laughing and talking. Then, out of nowhere, Courf started to bleed. Ferre looked down at the blood soaking through his best friend’s shirt, and Courf stared up at him, his eyes filled with betrayal. “Ferre?” he asked, as if Combeferre had been the one to cause the wounds. Ferre tried to save his friend, but it was useless. There was nothing he could do. He held Courf’s lifeless body and sobbed._

“It was just a dream,” Ferre whispered into the darkness. “The blood came from nowhere. Blood doesn’t just come from nowhere. Courf is fine. He’s sleeping in the next room.” He knew his words were true. His logic was sound. His logic was always sound. For the first time since he was a small child, his word failed to calm him.

He drew in a shaking breath and got out of bed. He walked quietly down the hall toward the kitchen for a glass of water. When he reached Courfeyrac’s door, Ferre paused. The door was ajar. He held his breath and leaned close to the open door. A moment later, he heard a soft snore that was unmistakably Courf.

Courf was fine.

Combeferre’s relief was instantaneous. He got his water, headed back to bed, and fell asleep with no further issues.

\----------

The next day, he kept close to Courf. His friend looked at him curiously, but didn’t ask about it. Ferre didn’t offer an explanation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to admit he’d had a nightmare. He just didn’t want to admit that he was behaving irrationally because he’d had one. He wasn't supposed to be the irrational one. 

Unfortunately, the nightmares about Courf continued. Combeferre forced himself to relax and not panic like he had the first night. It worked for a couple of weeks until he woke from the worst dream yet.

_They were all at a protest. Everything was going well, but then, suddenly, it got out of hand. Combeferre saw the man with the gun and tried to get to Courf. He pushed people out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough. He reached his friend’s side and held him as he bled out on the ground._

He woke up shaking.

“It was a dream. Courf is fine. It was a dream. Courf is fine,” he repeated to himself over and over, but it didn’t help. He kept seeing his friend bleeding on the ground, looking up at him with betrayal written all over his face, knowing that it was all Ferre’s fault that he was dying.

Combeferre tossed his blankets off and hurried down the hall without thinking. All he knew was that he needed to see Courfeyrac. In the back of his mind, he knew his friend was fine, but he needed to see it. He threw Courf’s door open and looked at the bed. The dark shape lying under the covers turned over.

“Ferre?” Courf’s voice was thick with sleep.

Combeferre was frozen in place. He couldn’t make his mouth form any words. He was still shaking.

“Ferre? Are you alright?”

It was the worry in Courfeyrac’s voice that finally spurred Combeferre to action. His throat was still too tight for words, but he crossed the room and stood at the edge of the bed. He needed to touch Courf. He needed to make sure that he was solid and warm and alive. He needed to be sure.

Courfeyrac moved over and opened his covers for Combeferre to slip in. Ferre crawled into the bed and immediately reached for his friend. He pulled Courf to his chest and held him tightly. He was there. He was alive. He was unharmed.

Courf tentatively put his arms around the other man. “Ferre, you’re shaking. What’s wrong?” When Combeferre didn’t respond, Courfeyrac pulled away so he could look at his friend’s face. “You’re scaring me, Combeferre. What happened?”

Ferre blinked, finally coming back to himself. He sat up and raked his hand through his hair, embarrassed to have acted so thoughtlessly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I know I’m being completely ridiculous and irrational. I-I had a nightmare. I’m sorry, I just—I needed to make sure you were okay.”

Courf gently pulled him back down. “Hey, you don’t need to be sorry. It’s fine. Come here.”

Combeferre allowed himself to be pulled against Courf’s chest, the steady beating of his heart was more comforting than Ferre would ever admit out loud.

“I’m here, Ferre,” Courfeyrac whispered as he stroked Combeferre’s hair. He continued to whisper comforting words until Ferre had fallen asleep.

\----------

Neither of them talked about it, but it quickly became a routine. When the dreams were bearable, Combeferre stayed in his own room, but kept Courfeyrac close the next day. Courf understood this need, and made sure to touch Ferre frequently on those days. Even just leaning into the other man while they sat together on the couch was enough to comfort him.

On nights when Combeferre couldn’t calm himself down, he made his way to Courfeyrac’s bed. Courf always woke up and whispered comfort to his friend until Ferre fell asleep. He never asked about the dreams, and Combeferre never volunteered anything other than the fact that they featured Courf.

They system worked well until, one night, it didn’t.

Combeferre woke up terrified. The dream hadn’t been as graphic or horrific as some of the others, but it had been incredibly realistic.

_Ferre was at Courf’s funeral. Their friends blamed him for Courf's death, and they were right. He listened to their words, not bothering to argue. After the funeral, he went back to their apartment and curled up on his bed, finally allowing himself to fall apart._

He woke in the same position he had been in during the dream, tears still wet on his cheeks. He could no longer tell if it was reality or fiction.

He needed Courf.

He rolled out of bed and padded down the hall to Courf’s closed door. The light was off. The apartment was silent. Combeferre took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Courfeyrac wasn’t there.

Combeferre walked into the room, panic building in his chest. If it had been daytime, he would have been rational. He would have been able to think of all the reasons why Courf wouldn’t be at their apartment. He would have been calm.

Unfortunately, post-nightmare Combeferre could only think that his friend—his Courf—was dead. He sank to his knees in the middle of the room and wrapped his arms around himself. Courf was dead and it was all his fault. He’d never even been able to get up the courage to tell his friend how ridiculously in love with him he was. It was unlikely that Courf had felt the same way, but now he’d never be able to find out. Courfeyrac had died without knowing how loved he was. That was worse that anything else.

A sound at the door startled Combeferre. He looked up, his eyes wild. A confused Courfeyrac stood in the doorway staring down at the man on the floor. As soon as their eyes met, Courf understood what had happened. “Oh god, Ferre. I’m so sorry. I was studying at the library, and I fell asleep.”

Combeferre stood up and closed the distance between them in two steps. He pushed Courfeyrac firmly against the wall. His fingers tangled in Courf’s dark curls and he crushed their lips together. He kissed Courfeyrac with all the desperation of a drowning man seeking oxygen.

Courfeyrac responded immediately. His own arms wrapped around Combeferre, pulling him impossibly closer. He hissed at the contact when their hips met. “Ferre…”

Ferre kissed his way down the other man’s neck, whispering his name as he went. “Courf. Courf. Courf.” He pulled away and Courfeyrac whimpered at the loss of contact. Combeferre tugged his t-shirt over his head and backed toward the bed.

Courf followed quickly behind, hands fumbling to remove his own clothes. It wasn’t long before they were both naked, Courfeyrac’s slicked fingers inside Combeferre who was pushing back against him, desperately seeking more.

“Please, Courf. I need—” he whimpered.

“Anything, Ferre. What do you need?” Courf asked and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

“You,” Combeferre gasped out. “Inside me.” 

Ferre took advantage of Courf’s surprise and flipped their positions. He straddled Courfeyrac and pinned his arms to the bed. “Now.”

Moments later, he slowly sank down, savoring the burning stretch of Courf inside of him. A vague thought in the back of his mind suggested that they probably should have talked about it before jumping into bed together, but Ferre needed this. He couldn’t think about his nightmare with Courf under him, filling him so completely.

And then Courfeyrac was moving and Combeferre couldn’t think about anything anymore.

\----------

Combeferre woke early the next morning. Courf’s arm was thrown over his bare chest. Ferre smiled fondly at the other man as the details of the night before came rushing back. He knew that it had likely been a mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He had made love to his best friend. His best friend whom he was head over heels in love with. Ferre knew it might never happen again. He knew that Courf was just offering him the comfort he needed. Maybe one day he would be able to tell his friend how much more he actually wanted, but for now, one night was enough.

He gently ran his thumb across Courfeyrac’s cheekbone. “I love you,” he whispered and got up to shower and make breakfast for the two of them.

Courf stumbled out of his room wearing Combeferre’s pajama pants when he smelled the waffles cooking. They shared smiles and blushes over breakfast, but neither mentioned what had passed between them during the night.

\----------

Later, it occurred to Combeferre to consider what would happen when he had another nightmare and inevitably wound up back in Courf’s bed. He didn't think for a moment that Courfeyrac would fail to offer comfort, but would they just hold each other as they had before? Would sex become part of their routine? Did he even want it to?

He didn’t have to find out. Combeferre didn’t have a nightmare that night. Or the next night. Or the next. He didn’t have a nightmare during the next two weeks. Ferre had never gone more than five days without having a nightmare, and now he was on day fourteen of the best sleep of his life. He wondered if Courfeyrac’s dick had magical properties. He would have asked, but that would require bringing up That Night, which he knew he couldn’t do.

On night fifteen, Combeferre woke up around 2am. He lay silent, staring at his ceiling. He had no idea what had awoken him. He hadn’t had a nightmare. He listened carefully, wondering if he’d heard a sound in the apartment. For a moment, everything was silent.

Then he heard it.

A muffled sob came from Courfeyrac’s bedroom. Courf was crying. The sound broke Combeferre’s heart. Without thinking about it, Ferre started toward Courf’s room. His friend’s crying was the saddest sound in the world, and he would do absolutely anything to make it stop. He was going to destroy whoever had made Courf sad.

The door was cracked. Ferre silently pushed it open. The room was dark, but he could see Courfeyrac curled around a pillow on the bed.

“Courf?” Ferre asked quietly, trying to determine if the other man was awake.

Courfeyrac jumped slightly at the sound of his name. He turned around stiffly to look at the man in the doorway. His cheeks were wet with tears. Combeferre’s breath caught in his throat. He had never seen Courf cry. The sight looked out of place on the perpetually happy man’s face. His heart clenched in his chest.

“Courf, what’s wrong?” Ferre asked as he approached the bed. He knelt down and reached out to wipe the tears away. Courfeyrac recoiled as if Combeferre’s touch burned him. He backed away to the far edge of the bed. Ferre felt like he’d been slapped.

“I’m sorry, Ferre. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Courf mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

Ferre frowned in confusion. “You can always wake me if something is wrong, Courf. God knows I’ve done it to you often enough.”

Courfeyrac flinched at Combeferre’s words, but remained silent.

Ferre’s mind raced. He tried to think of what could have upset Courf enough that he wouldn’t talk to him about it. There was only one thing he could think of. _He_ had to be the reason for his friend's tears. The thought horrified him, but he had to know. “Did—did I do something, Courf?”

Courfeyrac didn’t answer.

His silence was enough of answer for Combeferre. He sat back on his heels, floored that he had done something to hurt the man he that loved. He could feel tears filling his own eyes, but refused to let them fall. It would only make Courf feel worse, and Ferre wasn’t about to do that. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He stood and moved to reach out to Courfeyrac, but he stopped himself. It was obvious that any touch from him would be unwelcome. The only thing he could do to help was leave.

“I’m sorry, Courf,” he said again. “I-I’ll go.” He didn’t clarify if he meant the room, the apartment, or Courf’s life entirely. He wasn’t completely sure himself. Leaving would destroy him, but he deserved it. If he was gone, he wouldn’t be able to hurt his friend anymore.

He turned to go when he felt a hand grab his wrist. “No, Ferre. Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

Combeferre turned back and looked down at Courfeyrac. The other man still wasn’t looking at him, but he wasn’t letting go of his wrist either. “Courf?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Ferre. This is all my fault. You’re my best friend. You trusted me to take care of you when you were frightened, and I took advantage of you instead.”

Combeferre frowned. He knelt down in front of Courfeyrac and tried to meet the other man’s eyes. “Courf, what are you talking about?” Finally, Courfeyrac looked at Ferre. He looked like he was in pain. Combeferre wanted to take it all away, but he couldn’t until he understood what was going on.

“The night that you had a nightmare and I wasn’t here. I came in and there you were on my floor looking absolutely wrecked. I realized what must have happened, and I wanted to kneel down there beside you and kiss away all your worries. But I wasn’t going to, Ferre. You need to understand that I never intended to take advantage of your fear just because I’ve wanted you for years.” Courf paused and looked at Ferre, desperate to know that Ferre believed him.

Combeferre blinked. Courfeyrac had wanted him for years? He briefly considered just kissing him, but forced himself to stay where he was. They need to talk about what was happening. There could be no avoiding it this time. So instead, he nodded. “I know, Courf,” he said gently.

Courfeyrac sighed in relief before continuing with his explanation. “I was just going to pick you up off the floor and hold you until you were calm again, but then you were pressing me up against the wall. I should have pushed you away. I shouldn’t have let you keep going. I know you never would have done that if you had been in your right mind. You had a nightmare about me being gone and you wanted physical proof that I was there. I understand that. I understood it then.

"But there you were, kissing me senseless. Touching me. _Wanting_ me. I wasn’t strong enough to push you away, Ferre. So I let myself hope that you knew what you were doing. I let myself hope that maybe you loved me too. But you didn’t mention it the next morning, and you never came back after that night. So you didn’t do anything, Combeferre. I did. I took advantage of you—my best friend—because I was too selfish and in love with you to do the right thing.”

Tears had begun to spill down Courfeyrac’s cheeks again. Combeferre cautiously reached out to wipe them away. To his relief, Courf didn’t pull away. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, Courf. You didn’t take advantage of me. I didn’t do anything with you that night that I wouldn’t have been perfectly willing to do at any other time.”

“Wait, what?”

Ferre smiled. “Courfeyrac. I have been in love with you for years. I thought I was taking advantage of _you_ by crawling into your bed when I was afraid. I let you believe that you were just comforting your friend when all the while I wanted so much more. That night I just couldn’t hold myself back any longer.”

Courf blinked and wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “But you never said anything.”

“I was afraid of ruining our friendship. Your friendship means more to me than anything else, Courf. It’s enough for me to just have that with you.”

“But then why didn’t you come back after that night?” He still looked like he was afraid to believe that this was really happening.

Ferre chuckled. “I haven’t had a nightmare since that night. If I had woken up, I would have come back. Nothing short of you telling me to leave would keep me from coming back to you.” He leaned forward and kissed Courf gently on the forehead. “I love you, Courfeyrac.”

Finally, Courf smiled. “I love you, too.”

Combeferre crawled into the bed, pulled Courf to him, and pressed their lips together. This kiss was far less desperate than their first. It was soft and sleepy. It was salty from Courf’s tears. It was also so much better. This time they both knew exactly where they stood with each other. The first kiss had seemed like it might be the end of their story, but this one held all the promise of a new beginning.

This kiss was the future, and it had never looked more beautiful.


End file.
